


This Addiction

by 2007petewentz



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Deaf Character, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Sign Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Tutoring, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, cokehead! ryan, everyones fucking gay wtf, idk if thats a real tag yet but if it isnt im making it one and no one can stop me, im pathetic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2007petewentz/pseuds/2007petewentz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon Urie was fucking annoying. That was the truth, and Ryan Ross knew it. And if Ryan learned anything from hanging around Brendon, it was that the boy cared way too much. The thing was, Ryan didn't care about breaking the law. But he did care about not breaking Brendon Urie's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gabe Saporta Needs To Shut His Fucking Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> so ive written probably a million fics (not really) and for some reason i just had to post this one. the most fucked up concept for a fic ive come up with tbh. im proud (maybe not). enjoy. 
> 
> ~2007petewentz

Ryan's POV

It's easy to become addicted to something. But once you become addicted, it's a hell of a lot harder to get clean. 

 

That's what crossed my mind as I snorted my fifth line of coke. My head soared and I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my jacket, ignoring the blood trail that smeared on the cuff. It didn't matter. It already had dark stains from bloody noses I've had before. 

 

I laughed. It was eight in the morning and I was high as a kite. I knew I was late for school, but this feeling, this high I had grown to love (to need), was by far better than Mrs. Aaron's first period Gym class. Missing first period class, no problem. But if my dad got another call explaining his no good son had missed yet another day of his Junior year, he'd have my ass on a fancy China plate. 

 

I sniffed, unclogging my nose as best as I could before I stood up and walked to the bathroom to examin myself. My pupils were dialated and my eyes had dark circles under them. The next thing I noticed about my appearance was that I was wearing the same outfit from the night before. I couldn't bother with putting on new pants so I simply changed my shirt. I then ruffled my hair, sniffed again, and plucked my car keys from my bedside table. 

 

When I reached the parking lot of Hell (or more commonly known as Bridgemont High), I recieved a call from my best friend, Gabe Saporta.

 

"Where the fuck are you? History is boring as hell and I'm about to fall asleep. You got any blow? I need a pick me up!" Gabe hooted.

 

"Hold up man, I'm in the parking lot. I might have an eight ball here somewhere." I looked in my dashboard, and sure enough, there it was.

 

"You owe me, dude." I said, hanging up. 

 

Gabe Saporta could be an asshole sometimes, but he always payed me back. When I entered the classroom the whole classroom erupted.

 

Ok, yes, maybe I'm a little popular. But only a little. The teacher- of whom I forget the name- sighs when she notices my prescence, and stops her teaching. Gabe stood up to meet me in the back and slapped me on the back. 

 

"Just a little bump. William will kill me if I'm high as balls in his class." Gabe said, shaking his head.

 

I laughed, dipping my switch blade into the bag. 

 

"I still can't believe you're banging the student teacher. What if you get caught?" I asked, holding the tip of the blad to his nose.

 

Gabe snorted it quickly, glancing at the teacher to see if she noticed. She didn't.

 

"Nah, man. We're careful. We always lock the door."

 

"So is this a serious thing? Do we need to sound the wedding bells and make a 'Just Hitched' sign?" I laughed loudly, hitting my hand on the desk.

 

"Shut the fuck up, man. I don't know. I really like him. Not everyone can fuck and go like you, Ryan. Maybe you should think about finding someone to settle down with, even if just for a little while." Gabe shrugged.

 

"When pigs fly, Saporta." I chuckled.

 

"I'm just saying, you never know who'll snatch your heart up. Did you think I wanted it to be a fuckin student teacher three years older than me? Fuck, man. I need another hit." Gabe rambled.

 

I didn't reply. I was still thinking. If my own parents didn't love me, then how could anyone else? Besides, does someone like me really deserve love? 

 

~

 

 

"Ryan, you need a tutor." 

 

There I was, eighth period, sitting in one of the chairs up front in Mr. Hurley's classroom. I could be at home right now, my face in the small pile of coke left from this morning, but no, life just had to fuck with me a few more times today.

 

"Mr. Hurley, in all honesty, I think we both know a tutor will do jack shit for me." I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, bouncing my leg. I was getting impatient. It had been an hour and a half since my last line and I was feeling fidgety.

 

Mr. Hurley must have noticed my impatience.

 

"Ryan are you feeling alright?" I avoided his eyes, wiping my nose, looking around the room.

 

"I'm fine," Liar. "Can I leave?" I asked, my voice straining.

 

"No. Ryan it's your Junior year, your most important year of high school. You have an F right now in Geometry-"

 

"And who do we have to thank for that?" I laughed, cutting him off.

 

He ignored my comment.

 

"I am willing to get you the help you need but I need you to work with me here."

 

"Fine. Fine. What do I have to do." My head was about to explode.

 

"I asked one of my sophomores in Honors Calculus to help you out. His name is Brendon Urie, and starting today I'd like you two to meet twice a week for the remainder of the year." 

 

Oh Dear God whom I did not actually believe in- not that fucking Mormon kid. I groaned, my head falling into my hands. You can do this, Ryan. It's only for a few months.

 

"Ok, ok. Whatever. Where is this smartass." I grumbled.

 

"He should be here any min-" Mr. Hurley was cut off by the door opening.

 

"Speak of the Devil." I muttered.

 

"Brendon! This is Ryan!" 

 

"Sorry I'm late I was finishing my Physics report- oh, hello!" He smiled dumbly, holding out his hand.

 

I stared at his hand and looked up at him, giving him a glare. My glare had not penetrated his glowing-like aura, no, it bounced off and shattered into a million pieces. He pushed his dorky red glasses up and spoke once more.

 

"Well, let's get started!" 

Someone's eager.

 

"Whatever. Let's go." I grabbed my bag and stormed out, hoping maybe I had startled him enough to freeze in his spot for a minute, but no.

 

"Hey, wait up!" I heard his footsteps falter, and then a crash behind me.

 

I turned around to see Brendon on his stomach, text books sprawled out in front of him. 

 

"You're such a dumb ass. I'll be in the bathroom." I turned the corner and entered through the door with the little man on it.

 

I hear an "Oh, ok!" behind me and I hoped he wouldn't follow. I rushed into the stall, closed the door, and grabbed my mini mirror. I cut three small lines, and then the bathroom door opened. Panicked, I snorted them quickly and quietly as possible and threw my stuff back into my bag. 

 

I stood there for a moment, my sinuses clogged, struggling to breathe. I flushed the toilet, walked to the sinks, and washed my hands, ignoring Brendon's stare.

 

"Are you sick?" My heart beat unrythmically until I realized he meant sick as in sick sick, cold and flu sick, not sick in the head like I most definitely am.

 

"Ah, no. I just have a ton of allergies. You get those too, right? I get them a lot. Ever since I was a little kid. The kids used to bully me because I'd go through a box of tissues a day. But they've gotten better." I rambled, spewing off more lies than Pinocchio.

 

"Do you need a tissue because if you do-"

 

"I'm fine."

 

We stood there a few moments in awkward silence before I spoke again.

 

"So where are we gonna do this?" I asked, wiping my nose.

 

"Well, my parents are at work and they don't allow we to have guests over without them there, so if we could study at your place that would be great." He smiled.

 

"Ok let's go."

 

When Brendon sat in the passenger seat of my car, he immediately looked for a seatbelt.

 

"Um, where are the seatbelts?" He asked.

 

"Don't have any. This piece of junk didn't come with safety features." I said, revving the engine. Half way to my house, I could feel the high really start to kick in. I turned the radio on, grinning.

 

"Man I love the rock channel. They play all the greatest bands. I swear. Also, have you heard of The Beatles? What am I saying, of course you have! They're my favorite band, you know. My favorite song by them is called 'I Am The Walrus'. Such a good song, fucking deep and mellow and shit. I love listening to it when I smoke weed." I gasped, laughing hard as I hit the steering wheel.

 

"I should NOT have said that. Oh my God. Sorry."

 

"It's ok my friends do that stuff." Brendon smiled awkwardly.

 

"Ooo, little Mormon boy hangs out with the shady crowd, I like it! Sounds like a good plot for a cheesy comedy or something!" I grin, glancing at him and then back at the road.

 

"I guess you could say that." He said.

 

"Who do you hang with, Urie?" I asked.

 

"I uh. I don't have many friends. I usually just out with Jon Walker, Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Patrick Stump, Lindsey Ballato, Jamia Nestor, and Jimmy Urine." He said, looking out the car window.

 

"Not many friends. You're funny. Oh and um... Walker... Walk- oh yeah I definetly know him! Funny dude, he is. Went to one of his house parties once, it was off the chains!" I hollered.

 

When we reached my house, I could practically hear Brendon's jaw drop to the floor. Ok, yeah, I lived in a pretty big mansion-like house. It really didn't matter.

 

"I know it's kind of big. My parents are probably out of town I'm not really sure they don't really keep me up to date on where they are. We can probably just study in my room unless the living room is better or maybe the kitchen then you could eat or you could take the food to the living room or my room-"

 

"Your room is fine." Brendon said, laughing a little.

 

I led him up the staircase and into my room. My room was small, dark and cold. Brendon shivered as he walked through the door.

 

"Why is it so cold?" He asked, his teeth chattering.

 

"I like to keep it that way. You can take the quilt off my bed if you want." I said, sitting in my desk chair. I closed my eyes, slowly spinning myself around.

 

"Hey Ryan?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"What do I do with these?" 

 

I opened my eyes and saw Brendon blushing, holding up one of my gay porn magazines from the pile on my bed. I laughed loudly, holding my stomach.

 

"Just kick them under the bed."

 

"O-ok."

 

"Are you uncomfortable with me being gay, Brendon?" I asked.

 

"No, it's fine." He avoidied my eyes, blushing. He wrapped the blanket around himself and sat on the edge of the bed.

 

"Have you ever kissed a boy before?" I asked.

 

"Uh. I. I-I've never kissed anyone before." He stuttered, looking down at his lap awkwardly.

 

"You know, for such an annoying know it all, you sure are hot." I said slowly. I stood up, walking to my bed and sitting down next to him.

 

"We should really get started I told my mom and dad I'd be done by dinner time so-"

 

I cut him off with a heated kiss and he gasped, shocked by the touch. He leant in, but then broke the kiss, looking down in his lap and breathing heavily.

 

"Sorry I-I don't know what I'm doing this is crazy!" Brendon said hysterically.

 

I took the Geometry textbook next to him and flung it across the room.

 

I leaned in, biting his ear playfully as he stifled a moan.

 

"Fuck Geometry."


	2. Pete Wentz Is A Great Role Model

Ryan's POV

People always thought Ryan Ross was a bad boy.

It started in 7th when he came to school with noticeable cuts across his face and black eyes to match. The rumors of course had ought to be true. Ryan Ross got into too many fights with nameless people that had nameless faces. This is what everyone believed, and Ryan didn't care. It kept the people he didn't want away, and the people he wanted to fuck begging on their knees.

And as long as no one asked too many questions about his life, he was fine. Or at least as fine as a person like him could be.

*****

"I want you to clean the dishes." 

I looked up from my English essay, sneering. My father stood in the doorway, drunk and mad.

"I have to finish my homework. Or have you forgot that I actually have intelligence, unlike you?" I knew from previous experiences what came next. It would come no matter what, so I might as well throw in an insult or two.

In less than 5 seconds there was a knife at my throat, and my fathers whiskey breath fanned across my face.

"Open your mouth one more time and I'll open your throat, you useless cunt." Father spat, digging the knife deeper.

I of course knew my father would never go as far as to kill me, but the threat still made my bones go cold. 

"Dishes. Now. And wash the floors while you're at it." 

I shoved my father off, standing up. My father staggered. I brushed myself off as if my father's touch had dirtied me. It always felt like he had, anyways.

"Such small words for such a big man." I sassed under my breath.

In a flash my father had my neck in his clutch, squeezing hard. I choked, feeling a burning sensation in my lungs from the sudden loss of oxygen. My father brought the blade to my left cheek and dug hard.

Blood seeped from my wound as I walked down the stairs, tears in my eyes. Even though I was use to this abuse, I still cried. And I hated it, crying. I hated being weak.

When I finished the dishes and mopped the floor I went back upstairs, finding two hundred dollars on my desk. This is how it went at the beginning every week. My father would throw a few hundreds down as a form of hush money and I would take it. I needed it for coke. So if I had to take a few black eyes and cuts from a knife for it, fine. 

I would do anything for it. 

******

It was lunch time and it was Tuesday and all I wanted to do was die. I was in pain, I was out of coke, and Spencer Smith asked too many questions.

"So, Ryan, how did your little study session with the Mormon boy go?" Spencer teased.

"We made out for a good hour." I stated dully, picking at my french fries. 

Lunch was never easy for me. I was never that hungry when it came around. 

"For I was thinking you would have tapped it and moved on by now." Spencer mused, dipping a fry in ketchup. 

"No, not yet."

Maybe keeping Brendon around for a little while wouldn't hurt. The boy was smart, and he did have a good mouth. I could keep him as a toy for a few weeks and then let him go, it would be fine. 

"Really? Ryan Ross, are you actually keeping this one? Damn, never thought you had it in you." Spencer said, shaking his head.

I glared and spoke harshly,

"I am not! I don't do relationships." 

"Ok, ok. You don't have to be so defensive, anyways. Nobody would make fun of you if you did want to keep someone around." 

"Just leave it." I sniffed, glaring harder.

"Fine. Let's talk about the cut on your face, then. What was it this time?" Spencer whispered. His eyes were filled with sadness and my gut twisted.

"Same old thing. Opened my stupid mouth again." I muttered.

"You should stand up for yourself, Ryan. God, you're almost seventeen. Get emancipated, do something! I'm your best friend and I just can't stand to see this happen to you." Spencer hissed quietly.

This spiel was given whenever I came to school with a cut or bruise. I was used to it. 

"I know. But I can't. He gives me money." I said.

Spencer scoffed.

"Oh yeah, that totally makes up for it. Like, oh here you go Ryan, a beating and a few hundred dollars for your suffering." Spencer spat, pushing his tray away.

I sighed, and pushed my tray away as well. I rubbed the cut that trailed along my left cheek and winced.

"I'm fine, Spencer. He hasn't killed me yet."

"I swear I'm gonna call CPS on that bastard-" Spencer started.

"If you do I'll end you," I growled. Spencer just didn't get it.

"Let's stop talking about it. Oh, here comes Pete." I smiled.

I couldn't have been happier for the distraction named Pete Wentz. The boy's eyes were always the first thing you noticed. They were lined thickly with eyeliner everyday and they shone with an underlining sadness. Of course, no one would mention this.

"What's up, my bitches?" Pete grinned, taking a seat to the right of me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

I couldn't help but grin back.

"Nothing, really. Just chilling." I said, awkwardly. I never really knew how to act around Pete, even though we've been friends since 7th grade.

Pete was also very popular, like me. He was ruthless and he was a slut and he was pretty emo. Nobody fucked with him. But everyone did fuck him. For these reasons, Pete and I were very much alike, besides the fact that Pete was an obnoxious MySpace socialite, and I was a quiet scarf wearing drug addict.

Not to mention Pete was also my drug dealer. He got into the business because of his brother and now he had millions of connections and a small drug ring. He was feared by many, and he thrived on it. 

"So, can you hook me up with a little nose candy? I am so fucking wired." I whispered, taking no mind to Spencer.

Spencer knew. In fact, Spencer did lines sometimes, so he couldn't really say shit to me about it. I know he still worries though. He always worries.

"Sure can. A few grams?" Pete asked.

"Eight ball will work." I said, rubbing my nose at the thought.

"Sure thing. Stop by my place after school." 

My heart sped up. I can't wait. I only had less than an ounce left in the bottom of my backpack, and I've been panicking all day. I wanted it now. I needed it now. I could feel my skin crawl and I shuddered, scratching at my wrist. I felt the sudden urge to rip out my veins- just fucking destroy myself. Take a knife and pick out every little bug that I could feel crawling beneath my skin. I could feel them, the fuckers. They traveled through my bones and through my nerves, making me shudder. I have to get them out. I have to kill myself. It was the only way- 

This happened often when I went without coke. The thoughts plagued my head. I knew there were not bugs crawling underneath my skin, but it felt so real. And when I go under the trance, I always came back shaking hard. I didn't mean to feel so suicidal, but what could you do?

Pete didn't notice the wracks going through my body and continued speaking.

"So I was thinking about having another party." 

Spencer grinned and slammed his fist down on the table.

"Fuck yeah, man! Do it. Invite everyone. This Friday. I'm ready." Spencer loved parties.

"Alright but we have to make a list. Last time I invited everyone, my house ended up looking like a tornado came through. So, you boys have anyone in mind?" Pete pulled a pen and paper out of his bag and waited.

"Brendon Urie." I blurted.

Pete raised an eyebrow but wrote the name down and I sighed.

"Jon Walker." Spencer said.

"Ok, god. When I asked if you had anyone in mind I meant cool people, not Jon Walker and his loser Mormon friend." Pete huffed.

I had the sudden urge to defend Brendon, but I kept my mouth clamped shut. 

It's not like I liked Brendon or anything, so why should I bother?

"Ryan is trying to get into said Mormon's pants and I'm trying to get a boyfriend, so shut your face." Spencer blushed, crossing his arms.

"Jon Walker, really?" Pete looked at Spencer questioningly.

"He throws pretty cool parties. Remember the one with the huge fuckin hookahs? And he's not a loser. I mean, he hangs out with Brendon Urie, yeah, but you know Jon likes to take people under his wing. Plus, he's really cute." Spencer said.

"Stop, oh my god, I'm gonna throw up." I said, covering my mouth.

"I like him and he's coming to the party." Spencer said, making it final.

"Fine, whatever. Who else?" Pete asked.

"Invite that pretty boy you're obsessed with. You know, the one that won't give you the time of the day." Spencer laughed.

Pete pouted, his hair falling over his eyes.

"Stop it, you're so mean. God, he's so cute. Patrick's thighs will be the death of me and oh I just wanna fuck his pretty little face into the mattress." Pete gushed.

"Lord help us." I heard a voice from behind me.

I turned around and saw Gabe. He had a slightly concerned expression on his face.

"Gabe, my man. Lookin sexy today." Pete whistled. 

Gabe sighed, taking a seat next to Spencer.

"Still not gonna fuck you, dude." Gabe shook his head.

"Thought I'd give it a try." Pete shrugged.

Gabe rolled his eyes, looking over at me and frowning. Gabe wordlessly brought a finger up and brushed it across his own left cheek, looking questioningly at me. I brought my hand up and signed the word for father, happy I had a discrete way to explain the situation without having to open my mouth in front of Pete Wentz. It's not like I'm afraid of him finding out, but the less people who know about my personal life the better.

'Asshole.' Gabe signed back, and I shrugged. 

'It doesn't matter.' I signed, giving Gabe a look.

Spencer joined in. 

'Of course it matters!' Spencer signed.

'I swear one day I'm going to kill him!' Gabe signed viciously, anger in his eyes.

'What about William? He'll find someone else to fuck under the moonlight while you're in prison for murder.' I signed, smirking. Gabe never thought things through.

'I'll break my way out with a rusty spoon.' Gabe signed, glaring at me.

'And I'll drive the getaway car.' Spencer signed, nudging Gabe's side.

'You're both hilarious.' I signed.

'It's what we do.' Gabe signed, giggling.

"Man, can you guys stop talking in your secret language? I feel left out." Pete whined.

"It's called sign language, dumb ass. Learn it." Spencer chuckled.

"Too much work." Pete dismissed.

Gabe huffed and spoke.

"So what are you guys planning, anyways?"

"Party." I droned, watching Gabe grin.

"Sweet. Add William's name." Gabe said, tapping the next blank line.

"This is too hard. I don't like picking and choosing." Pete whined. 

"Just invite everyone. We'll help you clean up the next day." Spencer said.

"You better have some good shit there though." Gabe agreed. 

Everyone looked at me and I shrugged.

"I guess." I didn't really care either way. Picking up beer bottles wouldn't be too much of a hassle. 

"Ok great." Pete grinned, crushing the paper.

"Text everyone you know. Hell, text your grandma. Ok.. maybe not your grandma. But make sure everyone forwards it. This needs to be the biggest party of the year. Better than Jon Walker's party with the huge fuckin hookahs." Pete said with a serious voice.

"Oh, I don't know, that party was pretty big. Ooh and Jon looked so cute that night, god damn. Do you remember that cute jacket vest he wore-" Spencer rambled.

If I had rolled my eyes any farther, I'm pretty sure they would have fallen to the floor.

"Spencer, shut the fuck up!" Pete said. 

"Sorry." Spencer blushed.

"Anyways, this needs to be big. I'm talkin pole dancers in the living room, coke tables spread about, but no fuckin heroin I don't need people overdosing at this party, shit. Let's see.. weed, a shit ton of weed. Bring your bongs, bring your hookahs, bring your vapes. Everyone pitches in alcohol. Cups, snacks, pool toys, sex toys." Pete listed.

To say I was excited for this would be a huge fucking understatement. I could invite Brendon, fuck Brendon, do lines of coke until I passed out, fuck Brendon again. I shook the thought from my head, laughing at the crazy thought.

The bell then rang and I groaned. My friends stood up but before anyone could run off, Pete halted us. 

"And remember; keep a look out for you-know-who."

We all nodded in agreement and went our separate ways. 

When I got to my locker I heard the late bell ring, I looked around to see some stragglers rushing to their next class. Other then them, I was alone.

"Pst!"

I turned around to see an attractive boy leaning up against some lockers. I recognized the kid. He was a senior and on the soccer team and I've never fucked him, surprisingly. I thought I'd gotten every willing boy on the soccer team. Guess not.

The boy winked and nudged his head towards the janitors closet and I nodded. The boy disappeared behind the door and I felt my pocket for a condom. Feeling one, I smirked. It was go time.

As soon as the door locked and closed behind me I went to work, grabbing the boys face and kissing him. In mere minutes the condom was on and my cock was shoved deep inside the other boy's ass. I had the boy pinned against the wall, groaning like a grade A porn star.

"What's your name?" I asked as I pulled out and slammed back in again.

Between the boy's moans I heard the name 'Derik' spill out.

I am never a vocal one during sex. I mostly just stand or lay there, doing what I do best. Fucking. An occasional moan here or there to make the person I was fucking feel like they were good. In fact, most of the guys I fucked were annoying as hell. Another fact was that lately sex has been the last thing on my mind. 

When Derik came, I pulled out and tossed the condom in the little trash can in the corner of the room, not bothered to tie it. Because the last ten times I've done it, I haven't orgasmed. And it pissed me off. What was wrong with me?

Pulling up my pants, I turned away from Derik and reached for the doorknob.

"Wait! Can I have your number?"

I turned around. Normally, I would retrieve a sharpie marker and scribble my digits down on the boy's arm. Then in a few days Derik would text me, asking to meet up, and I would give him the same answer I give to everyone. 'I only fuck people once.' Honestly, everyone who gets into it with me knows it's never going to happen again, but everyone is a dreamer.

"No." 

Twisting the doorknob, I exited the janitors closet and came face to face with Brendon Urie.

Brendon looked quite confused as to why I was exiting the janitors closet, 15 minutes late to class. But when Derik stumbled out, blushing like a mad man, it seemed there was a light bulb that went off in his head. Well this is awkward.

Brendon's face turned cherry red and he spoke.

"S-so does tonight sounds good for um.. for um." Brendon sputtered.

"Sure. Meet me by my locker 8th period." I said nonchalantly.

The rest of the day flew by to my surprise, and then it was 8th period and I was waiting for my dumb ass tutor. Brendon was ten minutes late and I was about ten seconds away from yet another mental breakdown.

"Ryan! Hey!" 

I slammed my locker shut and turned to see Brendon walking briskly towards me, grinning.

"Finally! I've been waiting forever. Took you long enough!" I snapped, irritated.

I suddenly regretted it, as Brendon's smile turned into a frown. His shoulders slumped and his head hung.

"S-sorry.. I'm sorry. I had to check what time the orchestra concert was tomorrow so I can make sure to get here early and then Jon stopped to talk to me for a few minutes. It won't happen again." Brendon whimpered.

"Whatever. Tell your parents tutoring will be a bit longer tonight, I have to make a stop before we begin." I sniffed, turning and walking off towards the main doors.

"O-ok." 

On the ride to Pete's house, Brendon would not stop asking questions.

"Where are we going? Are we going to a store or something? Are we going to someone's house? Are we meeting with someone?" 

"We're not doing anything. But I am going to Pete Wentz's house to pick up something. Stop asking questions." I seethed, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

"Fine, don't tell me. I'll find out sooner or later." Brendon sassed.

"God, you're so annoying!" 

"Annoying, but smarter than you." Brendon piped, smirking.

I glared ahead, keeping my eyes on the road so I wouldn't have to look at his stupid face.

When we reached Pete's house I parked in the driveway and turned off the ignition.

Brendon started for the door handle and I stopped him.

"You're not going in." I said sharply, opening up my door.

Brendon said nothing as I slammed the door shut. I walked up to the door and knocked three times before opening it.

"Pete?" I called, shutting the door behind me.

"In the kitchen!" I heard him call.

I went down the small hallway and entered through the small doorway on the right to see Pete lighting a one hitter.

"Ryan, my man." Pete giggled, smoke billowing from his mouth.

"Hey, gotta make it quick, Brendon's waiting in the car."

"Really? Oh shit I gotta talk to him it is soo important!" Pete flew past me and I heard the front door opening.

"Hey, it's Beebo!" 

What the actual fuck.

I raced to the doorway to see Pete whispering with Brendon, and Brendon looked slightly uncomfortable. 

Pete barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"That's perfect, oh my god." Pete exclaimed.

"Pete, come on." I whined, rolling my eyes. 

I didn't even wanna know what Pete said to him. Ok, maybe I did a little.

"See you later, my little Beebs." Pete cooed, giving Brendon a noogie before coming back inside.

"That guy is not half bad actually. Not a loser at all." Pete said dreamily. 

My anger spiked.

"Why don't you just date him then, Jesus." I scoffed, crossing my arms.

Pete grabbed a scale and an eight ball, double checking to make sure his minions had weighed it right. I smacked the $200 down and recrossed my arms.

"Aw, Ryan is jealous is he? You know I wouldn't take your play toy away from you." Pete said.

"That's right," I smirked.

"He's mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys sorry if any of u were waiting for this next chapter (probably not lol) but u know how writers block is...
> 
> also ive had what i call PCD (post concert depression) because i went and saw the motherfuckinnn fall out boys thAts right people FALL OUT BOY (the boyz of zummer tour) and it was amazing and im pretty sure they took my soul with them when it was over because Pete Wentz, my father, loOkEd at me like made EYE CONTACTWITH M E it was bad because im very ugly and poor Pete had to see my face.mmm ohwell
> 
> anyways ye little update sorry again thanks for those who've left comments and kudos keep them coming!! and sorry if i misspell shit on here i write on the notes on my phone i swear I'm not illiterate xxxx
> 
> p.s next chapter will be from Brendon's POV!! I thought it'd be cool to switch off between Ryan and Brendon every two chapters so chapters 3 and 4 will be more insight on Brendon and  
> I'll try and get chapter 3 done as quickly as possible w/out it being complete shit x
> 
> p.p.s if anyone was wondering "why the fuck r they speaking to each other in sign language" ryan is completely deaf in his left ear (born like that) and you know gabe and spencer being the cute friends they learned when they were younger i dont make the rules jk i do sorry
> 
> k thats the last p.s. i promise love u guys xxx
> 
> ~2007petewentz


	3. Study Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I'm literally updating a year later is because my mental health collapsed but I'm learning to keep going. In all honesty this fic hadn't crossed my mind until recently. Don't know if or when people will read this chapter but I'm sorry I couldn't give you something better.
> 
> xoxo
> 
> Also leave some feedback and kudos! <3

Brendon’s POV

I tapped my fingers on the headboard of Ryan Ross's car, lyrics spinning around in my head. I'd have to write them down later.

But right now, I was very impatient. What the hell could Ryan be doing in there with Pete Wentz that is taking a half hour? 

I texted my mother, telling her I would be missing dinner because Ryan had a 'math test' tomorrow and he needed to 'study longer'. I’m glad I had an ‘excuse’ to stay.

Imagine my surprise when a week ago, Mr. Hurley approaches me and tells me that he wants me to tutor Ryan Ross. The Ryan Ross that I've had a crush on since freshman year. 

Yes, I've heard the rumors. Or to correctly put it, I know the facts. I know Ryan is a slut. But I can dream.

When I saw Ryan walk out of that broom closet this afternoon, I was only half surprised. It was seeing Derik exit the closet bumbling and blushing that made me lose my shit. 

On the inside, of course. On the outside, my face was beet red. And I stuttered, of course. Because Brendon Urie cannot act cool around his crush.

But this was just a minor setback. I could be cool around him. I will be cool around him. I hang out with cool people and cool people like me so if I can be cool with my friends, then I can be cool with Ryan Ross.

The thing is, I've wanted to blow Ryan ever since I saw him the first day of freshman year. On that first day of school, I was plowed to the ground as soon as I entered the building. And when I looked up, there he was. Ryan Ross, one of the most popular sophomores. 

***********

“Watch where you’re going, fuck face.” He had spat, sending me a venomous glare. He stalked off, mumbling curse words under his breath. 

At that point in time, it didn’t even matter that he had called me such a horrible name. Just by seeing his face, I was hooked.

“Goddamn, I cannot believe you got out of there alive.” A voice spoke.

I looked up to see a boy with brown hair, a scruffy beard, and a warm smile. He wore jeans, a t-shirt, and for some reason, a pair of worn flip flops.

“What do you mean by that, if I may ask?” I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

“Ryan Ross is a fighter. I wouldn’t cross him again if I were you.” The boy said, laughing.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I grumbled slightly, struggling to get up.

The boy grabbed ahold of my forearm, hoisting me up with little effort.

“I’m Walker, nice to meet you.” He said warmly, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Brendon Urie.”

*************

The car door suddenly opened, snapping me out of my thoughts. I blushed and looked over to see Ryan in the driver’s seat, his eyes calm as ever. He seemed to be in a trance, staring at the steering wheel.

I was afraid to speak. The thing about Ryan Ross is, I still haven't quite been able to fully read him yet. And I’m pretty much a master at reading people. I’ve found that the eyes hold the most truth.

But Ryan... I haven't been able to read him. He's like a slab of concrete. A hot slab of concrete, but concrete no less.

"I... are you ready?" I whispered.

"Yeah... yeah I am." He revved the engine and we were off.

When we reached his house there was a car in the driveway. I assumed it was one of his parents, but I couldn't be sure.

"Damn, she didn't say she was gonna be home." He hissed quietly.

"Who?" I asked.

"My step mother." 

When we entered the kitchen, I saw a relatively young woman standing over the stove, cooking what smelled like ramen noodles. She turned around and smiled brightly.

"Ryan! You've brought a friend!" She cheered happily, rushing over to greet me with a hug. Ryan didn't correct her terminology, causing my heart to soar. 

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you! I'm Nancy. What’s your name, sweetie?” She asked.

“My names Brendon Urie, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I said, giving her my best smile.

“Well, Brendon, you are welcome over anytime. Ryan rarely brings friends over.” She pouted, her eyes flickering with a tinge of disappointment.

Ryan snorted.

“Yeah, I wonder why.” He rolled his eyes, sniffing.

“Ryan. Don’t start.” Nancy warned, turning back to the ramen.

“Sorry, Nancy.” Ryan apologized sincerely.

I looked back and forth between them, slightly appalled. In the time I’ve known (or spent watching) Ryan, I have never heard him apologize for a thing. Not for cussing out a teacher, not for threatening or fighting a student.

I looked back and forth from Ryan to Nancy. He seemed to not mind her much at all. I wonder if they had a good relationship?

"I forgot to tell you honey, your father will be gone on business for a few weeks. Unfortunately, my flight also leaves tonight for London. I have a big meeting with that client, if you remember? God, I just hate leaving you here by yourself." She said.

She turned her back to the stove and faced us, guilt in her eyes.

"It's ok, I'm used to it." Ryan said, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

He looked unaffected by what Nancy said, watching her pour the ramen into two bowls.

"Don't be afraid to invite a few friends over if you get lonely. And I'll leave you some money for food and such." Nancy said.

"I'll probably just invite Spencer and Gabe over for some Fifa matches or something." He shrugged.

"That sounds fun, honey! Just don't make too much of a mess!" She laughed.

"Anyways, I made some ramen! I hope you don’t mind using chopsticks, Brendon.” She giggled, placing bowls and chopsticks in front of us. 

“No, I don’t mind at all! Thank you so much!” I grinned, picking up the chopsticks.

“I have to go pack the rest of my things, so I won't bother you two!" She winked, exiting the room.

My cheeks flamed and I cleared my throat, trying to pick up some noodles with the chopsticks, failing miserably. 

"She's nice." I commented, my fingers holding onto the chopsticks for dear life.

"Better than my father." 

What does he mean by that? I was about to ask but then Ryan changed the subject.

"What did Pete say to you." He said it as more of a statement than a question.

I blushed, remembering.

*******

"Hey, it's Beebo!" I heard a shout.

I turned my head to see Pete Wentz rushing out of the front door to the car.

"Um. Hi." I said sheepishly, giving him a smile.

From what I know, Pete Wentz is pretty untouchable. Touchable in sexual means, but untouchable in any other way. He gets away with anything and everything, and I know he wasn't the biggest fan of Jon. Why, I don't know. I don't understand what the big hype about Pete Wentz is. I suppose he is pretty hot, though.

At this very moment, he was high as shit, and anybody could tell.

"Hey you're.. fuck...friends with Patrick Stump, right?" He hiccupped and laughed.

"Yeah we hang out.." I said.

"Do you think if I asked him out he'd say yes?" He asked eagerly.

"I don't know, he's pretty shy." I murmured.

"I'll still try. Say, do you like Ryan?" 

"Um, yeah I guess. He's really... cool." I murmured, blushing slightly.

"Well, Ryan's been actin weird lately. Maybe you can cheer him up?" He asked, winking. 

"I'll do whatever I can." I grinned slightly.

"Whatever you can, you say?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

"I've heard it's not hard to cheer Ryan up. I'm already thinking of a few ways." I said, smirking.

Pete laughed and shook his head.

"That's perfect, oh my god!" Pete exclaimed.

"Pete, come on." I heard Ryan whine.

"Thank you. See you later, my little Beebs." Pete cooed, giving me a noogie before going back inside.

What a weird guy. 

*******

"He just wanted advice regarding Patrick Stump." 

Ryan giggled- actually giggled. I blushed at the sound.

"Oh yeah he was talking about him during lunch today." 

Lunch. Today. I was staring at Ryan all throughout lunch. Well, I actually stare at Ryan most days. Not in a creepy way or anything. 

Gerard, Jamia and Lindsay laughed at me and Mikey called me a loser. Patrick asked me why I always stared at Ryan and I never actually answered him because I was too... too well,  busy staring at Ryan.

I noticed a few things during lunch today. One, Ryan looked close to death. And two, Ryan conversed with Gabe Saporta and Spencer Smith through what I definitely recognized as American Sign Language. This was the first time I've ever noticed Ryan communicate with anybody that way.

"He really wants to bone Patrick. Like, really bad. It's quite hilarious actually." Ryan laughed.

"Wanna play twenty questions?" I asked.

"Don't we have to learn about triangles or some shit?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It can wait." I said, managing to pick up a mass of noodles and quickly eat them.

"Ok. I'll go first. Favorite color?" He asked.

"Red. You?"

"Blue." 

"Favorite food?" I asked.

"I don't have a favorite." He said, scratching the cut on his cheek. 

How had I not noticed that?

"How can you not have a favorite food?" I asked, bewildered.

"Just don't. Food is boring." 

"Well mines Chinese." I said, twirling my chopsticks in the bowl.

“Well you sure can’t use chopsticks.” Ryan commented.

“Whatever.” My cheeks flamed.

"What's your favorite school subject?" He asked, eating some noodles.

"AP Psychology." I said.

Ryan almost choked on his mouthful of ramen, eyed wide. He swallowed, shaking his head and laughing.

"Jesus, I knew you were smart for a sophomore but really kid, college level classes?" He asked.

"I like to learn." I shrugged

He looked like he wanted to ask more but I interrupted him.

"How did you get that cut on your cheek?" I challenged.

"I was climbing over a fence and cut it on the wire." He said smoothly.  

My eyes narrowed. I stared into his eyes, trying to see if I could find any flicker of emotion to give me a sign to whether he was lying or not. Shit. Fucking unreadable. Not to mention his eyes were unusually dilated.

"Is it true your father has three other wives besides your mother?" Ryan asked, smirking when he saw me flinch.

"No. He has one wife and six children." I spat, glaring.

"Surprising." He chuckled, his eyebrows raised.

My hand clenched to a fist and I huffed.

"Don't treat me like some fucking stereotype, Ryan Ross. You’d never know if you were pissing off the wrong person." I hissed.

"Don't get so mad, people just say things." He murmured.

"Doesn't mean you have to believe them." I huffed.

"You're right." He said simply, blinking at me.

"Why do you know sign language?" I asked sassily.

Two can play at this game, Ross. He tensed and frowned, blinking rapidly.

"You don't know anything." Ryan said gruffly.

"I observe people, Ryan. And I saw you today at lunch talking, except with your hands." 

"Jesus, stalker much? You really wanna know? Fine, I'm completely deaf in my left ear, ok?" Ryan whispered, leaning in as if there were people around who could hear.

"Why do Gabe and Spencer know it?" I asked.

"It's my turn. Are you gay?" He asked. 

"Yes. How did your friends learn?"

“How else do you think? I taught them.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“They must be good friends.” I commented, pursing my lips.

“Yeah, they are.” 

I didn’t say anything else, and I continued to struggle with my chopsticks, moving them around my hand awkwardly. I huffed in frustration, letting the chopsticks fall to the table with a clatter. I really wasn’t hungry anyways.

“Do you want me to teach you?” I heard him ask.

I looked up, surprised. What did he just say?

“Um…” 

“I just- you look like you’re having trouble. I can teach you how to hold them.” He shrugged.

“Sure.” I said, virtually speechless.

He reached out and took my hands in his. My cheeks burned and I leveled my breathing out so I wasn’t hyperventilating.

“Ok. So first you have to pick up the first chopstick and place it between your middle finger and the base of your thumb. The broad end of the chopstick goes in the crook of your hand, where your thumb and pointer finger connect. Then, rest the narrow end between the base of your thumb and the side of your index finger.” He instructed, placing the chopstick in between my fingers.

I listened intently, watching the way his long fingers gripped my hand. I gulped and turned my head, looking into his eyes. He stared back at me for a few seconds before looking back down.

“Now grip the second chopstick with your index finger and thumb. Place your thumb over the side of the second chopstick, so it rests above the first. Now adjust your grip to a more comfortable position so your hand doesn’t cramp up. Also make sure the narrow tips of the chopsticks are even with each other to help prevent them from crossing.” He mumbled, taking his hands away from mine.

My hands strained slightly, but since I was holding the chopsticks correctly it wasn’t as bad as before. I placed the chopsticks in the bowl and managed to shakily pick up a few noodles and put them into my mouth. I smiled, looking over to Ryan who to my surprise- had a small smile on his face. 

“Thanks.” I said, placing the chopsticks down.

“It’s doesn’t matter. You teach me something, I teach you something.” He shrugged.

You could teach me a lot of other things. 

“So should we do… math now?” I asked.

“I guess.” He sighed, standing up.

He picked up both bowls and pairs of chopsticks and proceeded to wash them in the sink before drying them and putting them away. It was a weird thing to watch, Ryan doing chores. He didn’t seem like the type to do them. All of a sudden the sound of rolling approached, and I looked in the doorway to see Nancy standing there with a large suitcase and a backpack on her back.

“I’m leaving now honey. I’ll be back in a week, ok?” She questioned, looking concerned.

Ryan turned around from the sink and stalked up to Nancy, giving her a big hug. I smiled at the sight, watching them disconnect and start a conversation in sign language. She handed him an envelope which I assumed was money, but whatever Nancy was signing, she looked worried. 

Ryan looked like he was trying to dismiss whatever topic they were on, so I spoke.

“I hate to interrupt, but um, I’ve got to get going soon so I was wondering if we could get started?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, I’m sorry to keep you two. I’ll see you in a week, Ryan. Love you.” Nancy grabbed her things and exited the kitchen.

“Love you too.” Ryan said gruffly, looking at me.

My heart skipped a beat but I ignored it and grabbed my bag, which was filled with Geometry notes I had from 7th grade. I didn’t want to look at Ryan again, so I made my way to his room, listening to the sounds of his light footsteps following me. I couldn’t breathe. Why does he do this to me? 

When I sat on his bed, I heard the door shut and the lock click, making me jump a tiny bit. The room was filled with an awkward tension that was making me very uncomfortable. And when I get uncomfortable, I blab.

“So I was thinking we could get started with angles because Mr. Hurley told me that was what you were having the most trouble with. I think if I make you some practice sheets every night that will help you improve a lot because practice makes perfect, right? Well anyways, I brought some old notes that I have from my 7th grade Geometry class, and they’re very thorough, so hopefully you can look through those and study them quite a bit because midterm is coming up and there will be a test that we have to get you prepared for because if you get at least a B on that test it will help you raise your grade in Geometry from a F to at least a D- and after that we can start studying whatever new stuff Mr. Hurley gives you.” I blurted, rummaging through the piles of papers from my backpack.

I looked up for a moment to see Ryan standing there, a look of confusion on his face.

“One thing you need to learn is to not talk so damn fast, because I did not understand a single word you just said.” Ryan sneered, swaggering over to his desk, ripping one of the drawers open, tossing the envelope in, and slamming the drawer with a bang.  
I winced.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll speak slower.” I apologized, my cheeks burning.

He sighed, joining me on the bed to my left.

“It’s fine. Just- I’m good at reading lips, but my right ear isn’t fully functioning either. I hear most things but sometimes it’s tiring. Just talk normally, because when you get excited and start talking fast I can’t go along with what you’re saying.” He explained.

“I’m so sorry- I just um.” I stumbled across my words, automatically looking down to hide the blush that was forming on my cheeks.

My chin was forced up by Ryan’s grip. He stared for a moment as if assessing me.

“It’s ok. Don’t let it happen again.” He let go of my face.

“Ok, so let’s start with some examples of the different types of angles.”

“I really don’t want to do this.” Ryan stated.

I look at him and smile slightly.

“How about this: if you actually try and learn, you get something in return.”

He smirked, looking me up and down, nodding slightly.

“Alright. I think we could make that work.” Ryan said.

“Okay, so we of course know of the basic angles like acute, obtuse, right, and reflex angles? Well, there are more types of angles!” I said  
enthusiastically, smiling at him. Ryan frowned deeply.

“I can barely remember those. How am I supposed to remember more?” Ryan asked.

“Well first let’s learn them and then I’ll see if I can find a way for you to remember them.” I smiled, pulling out a sheet with sketches of angles.

“These are complementary angles. These angles have to both equal to 90 degrees, and they’re complimentary because they form a right angle.” I explained.

“Alright.” Ryan hummed, nodding slightly.

“Next we have supplementary angles. These two have to measure up to 180 degrees.” I pointed at the diagram on the sheet.

“So… I just have to remember complementary equals to 90 degrees, and supplementary to 180?” He asked.

“Yeah! We’ll do more later on with them, but for now you should memorize them. Next are vertical angles, which have a common vertex and their sides are formed by the same lines.”

“Okay.”

“Now we have some tricky ones to learn. They are called alternate interior and exterior angles.”

********  
“Okay, now that we’ve reviewed, I am going to give you a little quiz. Don’t worry; the quiz will only be five points.” I assured, handing him a small slip of paper.

“Okay, thanks.” He took the paper and went to his desk. I sat on his bed for about 10 minutes before he got up sheepishly, returning to me.

“I don’t think I did good.” He said, looking a little ashamed.

My heart twisted a little and I held out my hand.

“Don’t say that, Ryan. I’m sure you did fine.” I smiled sweetly as he handed me the paper.

As I graded the quiz, I found that he did way better than I thought he was going to (especially when he had only just learned this stuff). In the end, he ended up getting four out of five questions right. I stood up from the desk and turned around to see him lying on his bed. His shirt rode up slightly and I could see a bit of his stomach from beneath his shirt. My breath hitched and I gulped, looking at the way his hipbones protruded sharply. He was skinnier than I thought.

“You did great, Ryan. I don’t see why you put yourself down.” I smiled, handing him the paper.

He looked over, a small smile appearing on his face. He then tossed the paper to the side and looked at me, his eyes full of lust.

“So… what do I get as a reward?” He asked seductively.

I gulped, goosebumps appearing on my skin.

“Whatever you want.” I said.

“I’ll be back in a second.” He grinned, getting up and exiting his room.

This gave me plenty of time to check the time on my phone (4:24 pm), and a text from my mother appeared.

From: Mother

Please be home by 8 o'clock at the latest. I love you xx

My heart rate increased rapidly, and I could feel myself start to panic. This was it. This was it. We had a good three hours at the most, and so much could happen in three hours. Then, Ryan reentered the room, his hand held over his nose.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a little nose bleed. It’s gone though. Now where were we?” He asked, getting dangerously close to me. Our bodies were almost touching, and my breath hitched again.

“Your reward.” I shuddered as his hand caressed my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

I shook with anticipation as he slowly kissed me. I opened my mouth slightly and allowed for his tongue to touch mine. It was still quite foreign, making out, even if I had done it with him once before. I closed my eyes and savored his taste, more thankful than ever. He then slowly pulled away, rubbing my back with his hands, edging farther down until one hand hovered over my ass, causing me to shudder and gasp. Ryan laughed lightly, slowly massaging me. 

In a matter of seconds I felt myself growing hard. I really looked like a virgin, shit.

“Let’s take this off.” He whispered, edging my shirt up. I obliged and let him pull it over my head.

He quickly took off his shirt as well, and my eyes hooked themselves onto his body. It’s not as if Ryan was a body builder or anything (in fact- you could tell he was underweight, which was concerning), but I still found his body a marvel to look at. Before I even knew what was happening we were both in our underwear, laying on his bed. 

I looked up at him, watching his eyes scan over me.

“You are quite something, Brendon Urie.” He said.

His hand lowered to my underwear and he looked at me for approval. I nodded slightly and watched him pull them down, my erection springing free. Embarrassingly enough, pre-come was already leaking from my tip. Ryan tossed my underwear aside and gazed at me.

“You have exceeded my expectations.” He chuckled.

He looked at me with glossy eyes as his head lowered, and I swear that’s the moment I forgot how to breathe. He slowly took my tip in his  
mouth, sucking hard. I gasped and my eyes fluttered shut. I felt his mouth sink lower and I bit my lip to keep from moaning loudly. 

Okay, I know guys brag about how much this feels good, but I really didn’t believe them until now!

“Fuck.” I whispered. 

Before I could even register it, I felt my tip hit the back of his throat, and my eyes flew wide open. I looked down breathlessly to see him looking up, his eyes wide and his lips stretched around my cock. My eyes shut quickly again as his head began to bob up and down in fluid motion.

“Jesus.” I moaned.

My hands were entangled in the bed sheets, clutching tightly because I feared that my arms would not know where to go if I released them. The sounds of Ryan’s muffled moans were enough to send me over the edge. 

Ryan pulled off with a soft pop, humming with pleasure. 

"That was... wow." I said, smiling sheepishly.

"God, I am going to have so much fun with you." Ryan smirked, getting off his bed.

"Did you want me to-" 

"No I'm fine. I count that as a reward." He hummed as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Oh, okay." I was slightly disappointed, but I didn't let it show.

"I'll drop you off at your house if you want to." He said, staring at me with a neutral expression.

"Yeah.. that sounds good."


	4. The Kid's Aren't Alright (And Neither Is Brendon Urie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer was broken but my friend brought it back from the dead which means im back and not better than ever but at least i'm here posting and not giving up completely   
> its not my best work but it is what it is  
> i hope you all enjoy and please leave some kudossss  
> ~2007petewentz

My alarm clock blared, waking me up from a deep sleep. I groaned loudly and clicked it off, opening my eyes briefly to look at the time. 3:45 A.M. I shut my eyes once more, sighing. Morning prayer started at 4 A.M. every morning at my house. Sometimes I liked to imagine how nice it would be to have the two or three extra hours of sleep every morning like most people at my school, but it would never be up for question with my parents; Church is what kept us Holy, after all. Without warning, the door to my room opened, interrupting my thoughts as I opened my eyes to see my little sister's head peek through.

"Wake up, mommy wants us downstairs in fifteen minutes." She cooed.

"I'm up, Audrey." I laughed as her head disappeared, and I could listened to the sound of her tiny feet pattering away.

My heart fluttered with fondness. When Audrey was born, I believed in God. My mother had once told me that she was an angel sent from heaven, and in a way, I was jealous; I was never anything special to my mother. Just Brendon Boyd Urie, her son that lived in the shadows of his elder siblings. And even though now- not to brag- that I have surpassed my siblings in so many ways, rarely do my achievements produce anything from my mother but a disinterested sigh of approval. Somewhere along the way I lost my faith. The words I read and sang in prayer meant nothing. The hours of youth group, the mission trips, they didn’t matter. I was a child who felt like an alien in his own home. Audrey made up for these things, however. When I practice my music, she is there to praise me, and in return I teach her bits of French. Sometimes, just for fun, we exchange secrets in our foreign language in front of Mason, bursting into fits of giggles whenever it makes him squirm, curse words placed in-between phrases such as ‘What are they saying?’ and ‘They think they’re so cute!’.  
Fifteen minutes later I was bowing my head, my hands clasped together in front of me. My brother’s and I were sat in the first pew, and my sisters sat behind us accordingly. Sleep still lingered in my brain, and I fought the yawn that threatened to escape my lips as I waited for my father to start his sermon. He stood at his podium with his face set like stone; my father was never one for making many facial expressions. It reminded me of Ryan a bit, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from showing any sign of amusement in front of my father. On the podium he shuffled his papers before clearing his throat, cueing me to shut my eyes in prayer.

"Good morning, children." My father spoke.

"Good morning, father." We spoke in unison. 

"Let's each share what we are grateful for this morning." He hummed.

I lifted one eyelid and peeked at my father, his eyes roaming over each of his children. When he reached me my eyes flew shut.

"Audrey?" My father asked.

"I would like to thank God for taking Snowball into heaven and for not letting him hurt anymore." Audrey spoke sadly.

I frown slightly, remembering yesterday when I returned home.

***  
"I'm back!" I exclaimed as I walked through the door. Nobody probably had heard or cared, but I said it anyways.

In a fraction of a second I heard the pounding of little feet, and I watched Audrey descend the stairs.

"Brendon." She whimpered, stumbling towards me. I could see tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, and my heart broke at the sight. I knelt down on one knee and engulfed her in a hug.

"Audrey, what's wrong?" I asked gently, kissing her on the forehead.

"Snowball died." She wailed, referring to her classes pet hamster.

"Shh, Audrey it's gonna be ok. You know why?" I asked, smoothing her hair as she sniffled.

"Why?" She whimpered.

"Because Snowball was old, yeah? And now he's not in pain anymore. He's in heaven with God and he'll be waiting for you there." I comforted her.

"You promise?" 

She looked at me with her big brown eyes and I nodded, kissing her forehead.

"Of course, Audrey. You'll see him again!" I smiled big.

She matched my smile and giggled, breathing more evenly.

"Thank you Brendy." She kissed my cheek, hopping off my lap. 

I watched her run up the stairs, my heart aching. I loved her enough to lie to myself. If I did believe in angels, as my mother once said, Audrey would be one of them.

***

"Brendon? Brendon." My father snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'd like to thank God for blessing me with uh... a new friend." I mumbled, my cheeks heating up.

"Gay.” I heard Matt whispered beside me.

"Shut up." I said through clenched teeth.

"Matt?"

"I would like to thank God for giving me the strength to get through my first semester of college." Matt said with a hint of sass.

My father had not detected it, luckily for Matt. I tuned out my hearing when on the other side of Matt, Mason started blabbering about getting accepted into Yale because yeah we know you're the most perfect child in this family shut the fuck up already. It was hard, being one of the younger siblings. My mother had never had much time for me when I was younger when my older brothers had things such as soccer or football practice, or when my older sisters had ballet and gymnastics and tap dancing classes. Once Audrey was born, it was as if I didn’t exist at all. With my mother reoccupied with a new baby, and my father acting as an totalitarian figure rather than a parent, I became my older brothers’ personal punching bag for whenever they felt necessary. 

"Pst! Pay attention!" Matt jabbed his elbow into my ribs.

"Ouch! Asshole!" I seethed, my eyes opening to give him a death glare.

"Brendon!" My father's voice boomed.

My eyes flitted up towards the podium and I gulped. If there was one thing forbidden in my parent’s book, cursing was for sure one of them. 

"Forgive me, father." I bowed my head.

He nodded his head and looked at me with a cold and calculating stare. 

"Come up here and take the microphone, Brendon. You'll lead today's hymns."

I stood up and took a few short steps to the podium, grabbing the microphone out of my father’s hand with a timid smile. I breathed in and out deeply, looking at my siblings. It was time for me to win back some brownie points. I looked over to my mother who gave me the signature disapproving mom look as she pressed play on the CD player. Soft music started to play and I brought the microphone to my lips.

"I am a child of God,  
And he has sent me here, has given me an earthly home  
With parents kind and dear." 

 

***  
Three hours later I was in Kara's car on the way to school. We usually we drove with Mason as well, but this morning he had decided to carpool with a bunch of his football meatheads. The only sound that could be heard was the engine humming, but pictures of last night played in my head like a slideshow. A small blush formed across my cheeks and I glanced over at Kara who stared at the road ahead. 

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"Ask away." She said, eyes not leaving the road.

"Do you know Ryan Ross?" I asked.

"Yeah, of course. Who doesn't know Ryan Ross." She laughed lightly.

"What do you think about him?" 

"He's troubled, that's all I have to say." She frowned, stopping at a red light.

"Troubled how?" I asked.

"Well, don't tell anyone this, but... I think his parents beat him." She whispered, looking over at me.

My eyes widened and I stared at her. My mind raced. She had to be lying, right? If he was being abused somebody would have noticed by now, surely. But wait, the cut on his cheek. It most certainly could have been- but would he lie?

"What makes you say that?" I asked, frowning.

"Have you seen the scars on that guy? Those aren't just from fighting guys at school." She said.

My mind raced. She had to be lying right? If he was abused somebody would have noticed by now. 

“You know one time, back in um… I think it was seventh grade, people started talking because Ryan went missing. Was gone for two weeks straight, maybe more. We really thought he was dead for awhile. I mean, no one had confirmed that theory but you know middle schoolers. Anyways, we came back one Monday and there he was. But Jesus, he was a wreck. It looked like a semi truck had hitten him, to put it lightly. He was in a wheelchair and everything, almost had a full body cast thing going on.” She said.

I sat there, shocked. My heart had felt like it stopped for a brief moment, and my throat closed up.

"Why do you care, anyways?" She questioned.

The car lurched forward at the green light. I stayed silent for a few moments, unsure.

"He's... my friend." I said.

"Oh. I see. You know he's a homo right?" 

"Why do you say it like that?" I quizzed, scoffing slightly.

"No.. I mean.. I don't mean it like that. I don't care that he's gay, I just- just didn't know if you knew." She said.

My stomach turned inside out.

"Hey, Kara?" I whispered.

"Yeah?" 

"What would you say if I was... gay?" Bile rose up in my throat. 

There was a pregnant pause. After two minutes had passed, my cheeks heated up and my eyes watered.

“At least say something!” I snapped, keeping my eyes diverted toward the outside world passing by. 

“Brendon.” Kara said softly. 

I sniffed and turned my head, a few tears escaping the corner of my eye. She had a soft expression on her face and my worries washed away. She wasn’t mad. 

“Brendon, nothing is ever going to stop me from loving you. You’re my little brother.” She assured, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it.

“You don’t… care?” I asked quizzingly.

She laughed, and slowed for the turn into school. When she parked, she finally turned her head and pinched my cheek. 

“Why would I care? You were born this way. And Brendon?” She looked at me.

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t change who you are to me. And I won’t tell anyone, promise.” 

“Cross your heart?” I asked.

“It’s crossed. Let’s get going.” She smiled.

As she opened her door I leant back in my seat, breathing a sigh of relief. I felt like I had just removed a heavy weight off my chest.

“Brendon, come on!” I scurried out of the car, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and slamming the door. 

“Hey, so are you coming to my orchestra concert tonight?” I asked, walking in step with my sister.

“Of course I am! Seven o'clock, right?” Kara asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I have three solos, but kinda nervous about them.” I said, scratching the back of my neck.

“You’ll do amazing, Bren. I heard you practicing last weekend. You’re gonna kill it.” She held her hand up for a high five and I complied, giggling.

“Thanks. Say, can I tell you something else?” I asked.

“Shoot.” 

“Ryan… we kissed.” I blushed.

She smiled and wrapped her arm around me.

“I kinda figured after you told me you were gay. But be careful with him. He’s in some pretty bad stuff.” She warned.

“Bad stuff?” I knew he drank and smoked. Jon did too, so it wasn’t like I knew nothing about that stuff. 

“Yeah. Just be careful, ok?” We reached the entrance to the school and I nodded, opening the door for her.

“Yeah… I’ll be careful.” 

We went our separate ways and I immediately whipped out my phone to send her a text.

Me: Thanks for being there for me. You can tell Kyla if you think she won’t freak.   
Sent at 7:25 A.M.

Kara: Always gonna be by your side :) And I’m sure she’ll be thrilled (she might make you shop with her now though)   
Received at 7:26 A.M.

I laughed at the text and shoved my phone back into my pocket, noticing Jon standing next to my locker, sunglasses resting upon his face. I laughed at the sight, knowing he was either nursing a hangover or was high.

“Hey, buddy. How are you feeling about that concert tonight?” He asked. 

“I think it’ll be ok.” I shrugged, removing my Humanities textbook from my locker, replacing it with my backpack before slamming it.

“Fuck, dude. Don’t do that!” He cringed.

I laughed. Hangover it was. I propped myself next to him,sighing a bit. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“What?” I said defensively. 

“I dunno, man, usually you’re more confident about these type of things.” He slapped his hand to my forehead, and I ducked, smacking his hand away.

“I’m fine, dude.” I scoffed.

“Whatever you say. Anyways, I’m having a party tonight at my place. You’ll come, right?” He asked.

“It’s Wednesday, Jon.” I shook my head.

“Who cares. Sneak out. Starts at 11, so be ready 10:15 or so. Bye!” He rushed away before I could protest, and I sighed, knowing there was no way I could back out of it now.  
*********  
At the beginning of third period, I began to hear whispers disperse amongst the classroom, quick breathless voices saying the same name over and over again. Ryan Ross, Ryan Ross, Ryan Ross. Curious, I leaned over to a fellow classmate of mine, Joe Trohman.

“What’s the news with Ross?” I asked quietly.

Joe leaned in, almost instinctively placing his pencil behind his ear before rubbing his palms together in excitement.

“Ok, so get this. He’s actually fucking deaf in one ear or somethin, dude. I heard it was from a car accident.” He whispered in awe.

I had a feeling this was not information Ryan would have given out willingly, but whatever the case, I had to defend him.

“Oh well that… isn’t a big deal.” I said.

“I always wondered why he would never answer me when I passed him the hall. Sometimes I’ll shout his name and it’s as if it went right through him.” Joe laughed, and I gritted my teeth. It was almost as if he was mocking Ryan.

“Whatever, dude. Keep your nose in your own business.” I sneered, retracting away from him.

“Yeah, sure thing. No need to be so protective over your hubby there, Urie.” He chuckled, raising his hands in defense.

I crossed my arms, giving him a cold stare. Fuck Joe, seriously. I turned away from him, desperately trying to block the whispers around me. I could only imagine what kind of torment Ryan was going through right now. If only I had his number to check up on him. The rest of the day I kept my attention to my studies to avoid the gossip, but when I saw Ryan by my locker eighth period, scrolling through his phone, my heart fluttered dangerously. I had to be cautious-

“Hey! Ryan, what’s up? How are you?” I asked cheerfully, almost bouncing in my steps as I got closer to him.

Inwardly, I groaned. I sounded too fucking happy to see him. Way to be obscure, Brendon. I half expected Ryan to snap as soon as he heard my cheery attitude, but he didn’t

“Nothing much, really.” He shrugged, moving so I could access my locker.

My feet didn’t move. We stood there for a few moments, staring at each other. His face was unreadable, and even though I couldn’t tell how he was feeling mentally, I could tell he was physically exhausted. His eyes cast down every now and then as if he was fighting sleep. His face was noticeably flushed with a green color, and I noticed that the cut on his face was now stitched up sloppily. I squinted my eyes a bit, hoping to give him an ‘I know you’re hiding something’ look.

“That’s gonna get infected.” I blurted out.

He looked at me pointedly, frowning.

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

“Your stitches. You did them yourself, didn’t you?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked slightly, bringing his hand up to touch the wound.

“Yeah, shitty job, I know. But it’ll do.” He shrugged.

“You should let me fix them.” I said, inching closer to him, dropping my textbooks on the ground.

He stared at me intently for a second, and I saw a brief flash of fear in his eyes before they were dead again. He shrugged slightly, moving closer to me. My cheeks burned and my heart slowly picked up speed as his face neared mine.

“You know… so the scar isn’t as visible.” I murmured.

“It seems like you’re always the one helping me out.” He whispered, his eyes studying me.

“Well, you kinda helped me out yesterday, remember?” I asked, giggling slightly.

Our bodies were nearly touching, and my hands itched to feel him. Cautiously, I rested my hands on his sides, gazing into his eyes as my right hand grazed the small of his back. His breath hitched slightly, and I smirked, leaning forward to rest my face in the crook of his neck, kissing him softly. His arms enveloped me and my heart skipped a beat, my face heating up when he grabbed my face and captured his lips with mine. At that point, I didn’t care if anyone saw us in the middle of the empty hallway. A minute later, he pulled away.

“If that’s the case, we should help each other out again.” He grinned.

“Definitely.” I confirmed, smirked.

We detached our bodies, and I bent down to pick up my textbooks, turning my head to give Ryan a sultry look as I did. He smirked, and I felt his hand slap my ass sharply before I could argue. My eyes widened, and my dick twitched slightly. I shot up, clutching the textbooks in my arms, my face hot.

Why did that turn me on so much?

I avoided his gaze shyly as I opened my locker.

“So… did you hear about Jon’s party?” I asked, shoving my textbooks in my locker.   
“Yeah, I did. I plan on stopping by. Why, are you going?” He asked. 

I nodded, smiling, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like something a sweet Mormon boy should be doing.” Ryan said, winking.

“Haha very funny.” I rolled my eyes.

“So what are your plans now?” Ryan questioned.

“Oh, I have to practice for my orchestra concert. It’s at 7. I’m sorry, did you need help with something in Geometry? Because I can hold off my practice for a little bit if you do.” I offered.

“Well I may need help in another area besides Geometry.” Ryan said cockily.

“Ohhh.” I smirked, humming.

“Here’s the deal: I have a grand piano and a box of condoms at my house. Both are going to get used.” He said, grabbing my hand.

Before I could protest, he whisked me away, and I couldn’t quite find it in me to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there were any errors


End file.
